


All the Stars in Texas

by mssrj_335



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (not any of the main characters), Adult Themes, Alternate Universe - Western, Bank Robbery, Dean is a Little Shit, Dean is also a Tease, Fluff, Guns, Happy Ending, I think that's it - Freeform, Language, M/M, Mentions of spousal abuse, Minor Violence, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, Some angst, hint of smut, ok it might be a little confusing, outlaw!Dean - Freeform, outlaw!Sam - Freeform, past and present tense alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4817624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by 'All the Stars in Texas' by Ludo.  </p><p>/Castiel holds his breath.  Dean, beautiful Dean, pulls two filigreed Colt pistols from his belt and grins.  Castiel loves that grin.  Dean tilts his hat down, cocks his pistols, and says, </p><p>	“Let’s hit it.”/</p><p>Dean and his gang are pulling a train job when a beautiful stranger steals his gun and stops them midway.  As luck would have it, Dean finds him again.  This is the tale of how Dean and Castiel, notorious outlaws, first met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this, you can find it here!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2beMYgxvFw
> 
> Dean's revolvers:
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colt_M1861_Navy

_Castiel holds his breath. Dean, beautiful Dean, pulls two filigreed Colt pistols from his belt and grins. Castiel loves that grin. Dean tilts his hat down, cocks his pistols, and says,_

_“Let’s hit it.”_

_Castiel’s grin is feral. He kicks in the door, shotgun chambering a round loudly, and they storm inside. Castiel doesn’t really like the shrieks of terror he can hear from the familiar bank clerks, but he lives for time like these. Dean is always at his peak in the heat of the moment. A fat man in a pinstripe suit decides it’s a good idea to rush the men with guns while the rest of the bank patrons scatter. Dean wheels away from Castiel and shouts,_

_“I’ll take big boy, go clean those drawers good!”_

_Castiel and the gang spread through the room like a wildfire, snatching cash from hands and drawers. Castiel hears punches landing, then a shot and a howl. Fat Man is down, but not dead. Dean doesn’t kill if he doesn’t have to. Cas looks for him, surprised to feel Dean’s hand on his shoulder._

_“I’ll get the safe,” he says, taking Castiel’s bag. “Go get our rides, pretty thing.”_

_The gang is shouting with glee at their new horde, and Castiel smiles at Dean through his kerchief. Right now, there’s no place he’d rather be._

 

* * *

 

 

Dean grinned at Sam and urged his horse faster. The train was coming up quick and he reached for the ladder. Benny grabbed the black mare’s reigns and whooped as Dean hung on the car like a spider. On the other side, he could make out Charlie helping Sam scramble from his horse. Dean climbed and, once he was standing on the roof, he raised a hand. The rest of the gang fell back, whooping and hollering but still following at a modest speed. Dean met Sam halfway at the rear car’s door. He pulled out two gold-filigreed Colt Navy revolvers and kicked open the door.

“Everybody stay still!” he shouted as ladies in silk dresses started screaming. “Everything valuable in the bag!”

They worked methodically from car to car, until Dean saw him. Sam was behind in the aisle, waiting for items to travel to him through the rows. Dean was watching warily until his eyes alighted on a man a few seats ahead of Sam. He was staring at Dean with hard blue eyes, no fear in his face. Dean smiled behind the kerchief on his face and sauntered forward, guns still spread wide. The man dropped his icy gaze to the back of someone’s head. Dean leaned down and got right up in the man’s face.

“See somethin’ you like, gorgeous?” he purred.

The man bristled and Dean chuckled. He caressed the man’s jaw with the tip of his gun. He was already an outlaw, wanted in several states for armed robbery. A little showy, sexual behavior couldn’t hurt him now. Besides, the man was _stunning_.

“What’s your name?” he asked in a low voice.

Those beautiful blue eyes flicked to his face. The man swallowed over his high cravat collar, but didn’t reply. Dean edged closer, nudging a Navy under the man’s chin, uncocked and finger off the trigger. The man turned and faced Dean, pressing the barrel of the gun harder into his neck. Dean wet his lips.

“C’mon, handsome. All I want’s your name,” he drawled.

“Castiel,” the man replied after a moment. “You certainly seem to want more than my name,” he said with a pointed glance at Sam.

Dean chuckled again. “You bet your pretty ass I do,” he grinned, fixing Castiel with a lascivious look. To his surprise, Castiel's face reddened. His surprise was doubled when Castiel surged forward, wrestling the gun neatly from Dean’s hand in one quick motion before he pulled the emergency brake. Dean stumbled back as the train lurched, and Sam almost lost the bag of loot as he staggered into his brother. Dean swore and looked down the barrel of his gun in Castiel’s hand. He snarled and shoved Sam past him to the door, out of Castiel’s line of sight, then he backed to the door, hands up.

“You hang on to that, Cas,” he growled. “I’ll be back for it.”

 

* * *

 

_Castiel rolls over on the scratchy blanket he and Dean are sharing. The rest of the gang is sequestered further up the gorge, drinking and feasting the night away. A sliver of clear, starry night filters through to the ground below. Castiel gazes at it for a while before turning to Dean again. He kisses Dean’s shoulder, then he bites. Just gently enough to wake Dean from the doze he’s in._

_“Dean?” he whispers over the crackle of the fire and the chirp of insects._

_Dean cracks one vibrant green eye, arms crossed behind his head. “Yeah, Cas?” Dean mumbles._

_“Again?” he asks, unabashed._

_Castiel lets his fingers skate over the soft skin of Dean’s belly, over his chest and shoulders to his hand. Castiel touches Dean’s fingers to his lips reverently before he slips into Dean’s lap._

_“All the stars can’t compare to you,” he whispers against his lover's skin._

_He can’t see it, but he can feel Dean’s skin heating against his lips. He slides down Dean’s body and presses more kisses into his stomach and thighs, worshipful and slow. He hears him hiss and feels Dean’s rough fingers thread gently into his hair._

_“One more time,” Dean murmurs before Castiel swallows him down. “Insatiable angel.”_

 

* * *

 

Dean found him again, almost a year later, while the gang emptied a bank in a Texas backwater town. Benny was keeping watch at the door while Sam and Charlie each methodically cleaned out a cashier. Dean was making his way to the safety deposit room, then he stopped, starstruck, only to find Castiel crouching in a corner in front of two women. Dean actually laughed aloud at the thunderstruck expression on Cas’ face.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he said. Dean eyed the door for a second then muttered, “Better cover your ears.”

The lone Navy in his hand fired explosively, blasting apart the locking mechanism on the door. He whistled to Sam, keeping on eye trained on Cas.

“You’re a slippery bastard, aren’t ya?” Dean said, no real venom in his voice. As much as he hated that Cas’d gotten the better of him, he respected the man’s ability to do it.  It had been a while since their last encounter, but Dean hadn't forgotten the quickness or efficiency with which he'd been disarmed. “Where’d you learn them moves on the train, Chinatown? Betcha get lots of ladies with those.”

Castiel snorted.

“C’mon, beautiful. I’m just makin’ conversation,” Dean complained, watching Sam clean out the deposit boxes out of the side of his eye. “Ain’t no fun if it’s just one person.”

The women behind Cas were casting bewildered looks at the back of the dark-haired man's head. But Cas, apparently, had no time for his banter or their confusion.

“I was a soldier, you ass,” he ground out, shifted so that the women were more fully shielded behind him.  Dean wondered if he'd even realized he'd made the motion.

“And I’d bet a dollar you look mighty fine in a uniform,” he retorted, looking Castiel up and down appraisingly.

The ladies tittered and Dean shot them a wink.

“He does, doesn’t he?”

Cas’ lips tightened, and Dean was struck with an idea, spurred by what he was sure was a small splinter of guilt.  If Cas really was a military man, he wouldn't have shit for savings.  Military didn't pay squat, after all, so he offered Castiel a hand.

“C’mon, Cas. I need your help with somethin’.”

Castiel ignored his hand, eyes trained on the revolver in his other as he rose slowly to his feet. Dean grabbed the back of his suit jacket and steered him into the room of safety deposit boxes. Sam was riffling through the contents, breaking the little locked doors with a heavy hammer and picking the best of the loot.

“Which one’s yours?” Dean asked.

Castiel glanced at him over his shoulder. “I—don’t bank here,” he said haltingly.

Dean frowned. “Now that’s horseshit, handsome. Why else would you be here on such a perfectly fine day?”

Cas glowered at him.

“Look, I just wanna make sure we leave it,” Dean explained, floundering for a moment to find an excuse to cover the guilt. “You’re too pretty to steal from.”

Dean could see the confusion spreading across Cas’ face and he gave him a little nudge, trying to make his expression earnest despite the handkerchief on his face.

“Box 128,” Cas said softly.

Dean smiled.  “Ya hear that, Sammy?” Dean called. “Don’t touch 128.”

Sam frowned at him over his kerchief for a second, then he shrugged and continued.

Dean smiled triumphantly at Cas, even though he couldn’t see it. “See? I can be a nice man.”

“If you were a nice man, you wouldn’t be doing this at all,” Cas shot back.

“Hmm, true,” Dean hummed, “but I think my neck is awful pretty and it don’t need to be in a noose anytime soon. Besides, I like the liberty to do as I please. Haven’t you ever wanted freedom?”

Though he was sure he would deny it, Dean saw Castiel perk up at the mention of freedom.

“Speakin’ of, you gonna tell me where I can find my gun so I can do a little more liberatin’ at a time?” Dean asked, trailing a hand from Cas’ back to his hip, to 'check for a weapon' if anyone asked and to get a feel of the man if they didn't. He felt Cas' spine stiffen and, when he didn’t say anything, Dean sighed. “S’like I’m talking to a post,” he muttered.

“Why should I give it back?” Castiel asked. “You hurt people.”

Dean had the audacity to look offended. “I never hurt no one that didn’t deserve it,” he said. “‘Sides, that gun’s real special to me, and I’m gonna get it back, one way or another.”

Dean meant to keep the questions up, but he heard Benny’s telltale whistle and sighed. He didn’t miss Castiel’s quick intake of breath as he holstered his revolver and traded it for a handerkerchief, which Dean slid over his blue eyes. Dean pushed Castiel back up against the wall and muttered a quick, “Stay,” before helping Sam grab the bags. He made a quick dash and grabbed the card catalogue from the desk, shoving it into a bag as Sam shuffled out.

Then he noticed Cas, the dumb bastard, had snuck the kerchief up over his eyes and was inching to the door. Dean growled and trapped him bodily against the wall, pressing his forearm against the man’s throat.

“What’d I say, angel?” he growled, feeling Cas swallow hard against his arm.

He pulled the kerchief back down over Cas’ eyes just as he heard Benny whistled twice more. Time to go. In one quick motion, Dean pulled his cover down and pressed his lips hard against Castiel’s. He felt Cas’ hands come up and bunch in the thin fabric of his shirt and try to push him away. But when he pressed his tongue against Cas’ lips, he was astounded--and ridiculously pleased--that Cas opened his mouth and let Dean in. Castiel gasped against the sensation, and when Dean pulled back, he was breathless against the wall.

“Not so bad, am I?” Dean whispered against his lips.

“You insufferable _bastard_ ,” Cas growled, shoving him away and clawing at the cover on his eyes.

“See ya later, Cas,” Dean said in a parting shot, pulling his kerchief back up over his face before he ran out of the building and jumped on Baby’s back, tearing out of the town at top speed.

 

* * *

 

_Castiel sits next to the fire on his saddle, soaking up the soft sunlight before the day gets hot. He is thinking about the future as the rest of the gang eats, about a time when he and Dean and the others might be too old or too tired to do this anymore. What will they do? Where could they go? They’d been so careful not to get caught, not to be seen, moving all the time and keeping to themselves. If Castiel thought about it long enough, he could picture a little house by the river where he and Dean could make their own little living. It’s a happy thought, and Cas smiles in the sun._

_“Do you think you’d ever like to stop?” Castiel asks innocently, watching Dean tuck into a bowl of steaming oatmeal in the early morning sun._

_Surprisingly, Dean’s face turns pensive instead of angry._

_“You know, I think I might,” he says softly, low enough the others can’t hear._

_Castiel’s surprise is obvious, because Dean quickly says, “Well, not right this second. But maybe someday. Make a home, live off what we got.”_

_His tone is almost wistful, and the tiny spark of hope Castiel holds gets a breath of life and turns into a flame. As the weeks go on and the jobs they do pull more and more cash into their pockets, Dean seems like he’s working harder for something. He’s looking for something, but Castiel can’t quite figure out what. So he sticks by Dean’s side, takes bullets for Dean, and wipes away his tears when he’s laid up with wounds of his own. This life is hard, Castiel won’t deny it, but he’d follow Dean anywhere. And for now, that’s enough._

 

* * *

 

Dean thumbed through the nearly-forgotten card catalogue, weeks later, until he found number 128. Castiel’s information was neatly jotted on the paper, and Dean could feel his excitement growing. He liked Cas. Well, liked him as much as someone could in two short meetings. And that kiss was nothing to scoff at. Besides, he had to get his gun back. It had belonged to his father, and was just about the only good thing the old man had ever given him. Dean had packed up a few things in Baby’s saddlebags and left Sam in charge with a few words and a handshake.

“I’m goin’ on a little getaway, Sammy,” he’d said. “Why don’t y’all take a break?”

Sam had looked flabbergasted, but his quick mind followed the word ‘break’ though to the end in no time flat, probably calculating all the time he could have to himself.

“Sure, Dean,” he’d replied. “I bet the fellas would like that. I’ll, uh, I’ll let ‘em know what’s going on.”

Dean had tipped his wide-brimmed at from his perch on Baby’s back. “I’ll be back in a week or two. If I’m not back—”

Sam’s lips had tightened and he cut him off. “See you in a couple weeks, Dean.”

Neither one of them liked to admit the very real possibility that they might die each time they left. Sam was the only family he had left, and Dean was determined to hold onto that, but he always wanted Sammy to have a plan if he didn’t come back. Dean had offered him a quick salute and Baby trotted away.

 

Cas' family lived just outside the little town they’d robbed weeks ago, ranching and herding cattle. Castiel Collins. Funny, he hadn’t struck Dean as a ranch hand. But he had said he was a soldier. Maybe he missed out on the family fun, Dean thought. It took several days of steady riding to reach the town and, as he suspected, no one spared him a second glance. The bank had reopened and people were milling around out in the square. Dean tied Baby outside the general store and stopped in to ask for directions. Two miles ride west of town, and Dean would find the Collins’. He tipped the store clerk and led Baby down the street to the bar, grabbing a quick, solid meal before riding on to the Collins ranch in the twilight.

Baby trotted past a long, winding path to the main house. The whole estate was a huge, sprawling thing, and it wouldn’t be easy to get in and out undetected. He circled the whole place on foot, and decided to set up camp about a mile away in a copse of shriveled, under-grown trees. No fire tonight to cook with, so Dean pulled a bundle of dried meat and bread from his pack, offering Baby a small bag of oats and water from his canteen.

At last, night fell. Dean tied Baby loosely to a tree and holstered his remaining Colt before he trekked back up to the house. The outer lanterns had been extinguished, but a few lights still burned brightly in the windows. He pulled his handkerchief up over his face and, after trying a few darkened windows, crept into an empty room. In the quiet of the evening, it wasn’t hard to hear loud voices on the floor above. Men were arguing heatedly, and a woman was interjecting with loud, hysterical sounds. Despite his reservations, Dean’s curiosity got the better of him, and he crept up the stairs to the source of the sound. The door was open and Dean watched the exchange with morbid curiosity from the room across the hall.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he heard a voice grate venomously.

Holy shit, that was Cas. His voice was low and dangerous, his back to the door and arms around a sobbing grey-haired woman. An older, balding man with a white beard was rocking back in a leather chair, drinking heavily from a crystal glass.

“I c’n do whatever I want with my property.”

A short man with tawny eyes took a step forward, fists clenched at his sides as if it was taking all he had not to haul off and punch the man. “She is not your _property_ , you bastard. She’s our mother!”

“And I married her, and the law of God and this land makes her as good as.”

A taller, dark-haired man that reminded Dean strikingly of his father tried to step forward, but the old man in the chair pulled a heavy revolver out of the drawer of his desk and let it thunk onto the wood.

“Michael,” Castiel said savagely, “get Mother out of here. Gabriel, go with him.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the force in Cas’ voice. Michael nodded, seemingly struck by Castiel’s vicious tone, and took their tearful mother from his arms.  The man looked downright terrifying, even with his back turned, an avenging force gathering his rage about him.  But Gabriel, on the other hand, glared balefully at Cas’ easy dismissal. He opened his mouth, and Cas cut him off before he could start.

“Gabriel. Go. You do not want to be here for this.”

Dean remained hidden in the room across the way and watched Michael, Gabriel, and their mother go down the stairs. Cas’ shoulders seemed to straighten with resolve. The old man smiled dangerously, palming the revolver on the table.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Dean breathed. That was a Colt Walker. It was possibly one of the deadliest handguns a man could have, packing all the power of a high-powered rifle into a pistol, and Cas was staring it down like it was a bunny rabbit.

“Yew bastard,” the old man slurred. “Go offta war and come back with some chip on yer shoulder, thinkin’ you c’n tell me what I can’t ’n…can’t do. This is my place, boy, and I’ll do exac’ly as I please.”

Dean watched breathlessly as Cas’ hand creeped up his back and under his coat. There, hiding under the fine fabric of his jacket, was Dean’s gold-filigreed Colt Navy. Cas’ strong fingers gripped it tight and pulled back the hammer quietly.

“So you will not stop these beatings? You will continue to lay hands upon my mother, whom I treasure above all my family?”

The man gave Cas a nasty grin. “Boy, I’ll do more’n just beat her.”

Dean couldn’t see Castiel’s face, but he himself felt sick to his stomach at the old man’s implications. He expected Cas to be trembling with rage, but his hands were perfectly steady. He took a deep breath and pulled the gun from the waistband of his trousers, pointing it levelly at the patriarch's chest.

“So be it,” he said.

Dean’s Colt made a terrible roar in Castiel’s hand, and the man wheeled back in his chair, sinking down as his shirt started to stain red. Another roar, and a bullet found itself well-placed between the man’s eyes. He gurgled and flopped to the floor, bleeding into the expensive carpets beneath his desk. Cas’ shoulders finally slumped, and Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He rushed from his hiding place into the room, pulling his kerchief down, anonymity be damned.

“Cas—” He gulped as Cas turned his icy gaze on him. “What did you do?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and he leveled a cold stare at the intruder. “Who are you?” he asked dangerously.

“C’mon, gorgeous. Doncha remember me?” Dean huffed.

Castiel stared at him a moment longer before realization sank in. He raised the gun from where it hung limply in his hand and pointed it at Dean.

“Why’d you do it?” Dean asked softly, raising his hands in surrender.

“I did what needed to be done. Some men cannot be allowed to continue.”

Dean gaped. “But Cas—they’ll hang you for this, even if it was for a good reason,” he said with a disgusted look at the body on the floor.

Cas nodded, seemingly resigned, and Dean felt his heart break a little at the sight. Cas didn’t deserve it. He deserved a long, happy life. And he’d given it up, just like that, for his family.  Admittedly, that was something that Dean understood--hell, he even respected it--and he wouldn't have done any less for Sam.  Then, he heard footsteps downstairs. He needed to get out of there, but maybe he could do something.

“Cas, come with me,” he blurted out.

Castiel frowned. “What?”

Dean scoffed incredulously. “I can save your life, you idiot,” he said, taking a quick step forward. Cas didn’t lower the gun, but he also didn’t shoot, so Dean took it as a good sign.

“You don’t have to die. _This_ bastard deserved to die, but you don’t. Come with me, Cas.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

Dean heard someone pounding up the stairs. He took another step and pressed his chin under the barrel in a show of defiance as Cas had all those months ago. He pleaded with silently, hoping that the man would come to his senses. He could be useful in the gang with nerves like that and, if Dean played his cards right, maybe he could discover more about the sarcastic, steadfast fellow that had first piqued his interest. Cas seemed on the edge of lowering the Navy when the tawny-eyed man burst into the room. He looked from Cas to Dean then to the body on the floor.

“Castiel, what’s going on?” the man—Gabriel, he assumed—said.

Cas side-eyed Gabriel, but didn’t move a muscle.

“He was just leaving,” Cas murmured.

“Who is—”

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean tried again. “There’s no other way to save your life, far as I can see.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed and he stared at Dean before jolting with realization. “You’re the bandit,” he growled. “You’re the one Castiel told us about.”

Dean winked, and Gabriel seemed scandalized. “Guilty! Maybe you have a little more sense than him,” he said, tossing his head in Cas’ direction. “I’m offerin’ to take him with me. Get him out of here and out of range of the sheriff. Save him, in other words.”

Gabriel gaped. “Why would you do that? You don’t know Castiel from Adam!”

Dean turned his gaze back to Cas, looking at him earnestly. “Because I think he deserves it,” he said softly.

Castiel bit his lip and shook his head. “You don’t know me, or the things I’ve done.”

“Don’t gotta,” Dean replied easily, “I trust my gut.”

Gabriel looked between them and finally sighed. “Will you keep him safe?” he asked.

Dean nodded against the barrel of his gun.

“You won’t turn him in when it’s convenient or when there’s money to be made?”

Dean scowled. “I may be a thief, but I ain’t that underhanded. I need quality men, and Cas here seems like a quality man.”

Gabriel hummed and thought for a moment, then put his hand gently on Cas’ shoulder. “Go with him,” he said softly.

Castiel sagged under his brother’s words. “What about Mother? What about you, and Michael, and the ranch?” he asked faintly.

Gabriel smiled sadly. “Mother’s in good hands. You know we’ll take care of her, Castiel. I couldn’t bear to see you hanged for doing the right thing.”

“What will you tell the sheriff when he comes?” Castiel asked.

“Nothing. We won’t tell him anything,” Gabriel said.

Cas took a deep breath. “Ok.”

Dean, who’d remained silent throughout the exchange, gently levered his gun from Castiel’s fingers. He felt like an intruder upon an intimate family moment so, in his usual over-the-top fashion, he holstered his gun in its rightful place and winked at the pair.

“Told you I’d come back for it, Cas,” he said with a smile.

Cas did nothing except nod dumbly. Gabriel jostled his shoulder and said, “Get some things packed up, Castiel. Dean and I will get a horse ready.”

He gave Dean a pointed look, then all but dragged him out to the barn while Cas moved numbly to his bedroom.

 

 

 

 

“What’s the big idea?” Dean groused when Gabriel pulled him to a stop.

“You listen here, you arrogant dick, you are going to take care of my brother.”

Dean frowned, hackles rising. “I think that’s what I just said I’d do.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Gabriel insisted, expression deadly serious. “My brother has seen some shit. If you’re serious about taking him with you, I need your solemn oath you won’t let him spiral.”

“Sir, I can’t claim that I’m an honest man, and I can’t say that my word would be any good to you. But no harm’ll come to him from me. I’ll take care of him like family,” Dean said, spreading his hands in front of himself in a show of surrender.

Gabriel pursed his lips, but released his tight grip on Dean’s arm and pulled a fine black saddle down from a rack. He stopped at the second stall and started saddling a tall black and grey Appaloosa.  Dean gathered any food and supplies he could fit into mare's saddlebags in silence, until the man spoke again.

“In a year, I’m going to come looking for you,” Gabriel said. When Dean started to sputter, he continued over him. “I”m going to come looking for my brother. If all is well, I’m taking him home.”

“And if it’s not?” Dean growled, crossing his arms.

“Then I’m going to shoot you,” Gabriel said simply. “I will have my brother back, one way or another.”

Dean felt a frisson of anger creep up his spine, but before he could say anything more, Gabriel led the horse quickly out of the stable and back to the house. Castiel stood on the stoop, looking grim, and Dean’s breath caught when he alighted upon his horse, quick and nimble despite his despair. Dean crawled up behind him, taking firm hold of Cas’ shoulders.

“One year,” he heard Gabriel say, and then they were galloping into the cool night air, Dean’s directions muttered in Castiel’s ear.

Baby was just where he left her, and she didn’t seem bothered by the new additions. He sighed contentedly as he put her saddle on, then smiled up at Cas.

“Time to go home,” he said, swinging onto his horse. He pulled his hat on tight, then let her run free in the twilight of morning. He heard Cas close behind and smiled to himself, happy to be leaving such a grim scene far behind him.  He knew that Castiel wasn't happy, not really, but maybe someday he would be.  Dean felt a small flutter in his gut at the thought.  Between Dean and the dirt, Cas was the prettiest thing he’d ever stole.

 

 


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry i know this is fast. i only wanted to delve into how they first met, but i couldn't leave it at just that.

Closing Remarks in the History of The Winchester Brothers' Gang

 

 

_Then_  

 

At first, Sam, Benny, and Charlie were very wary of Cas. Despite Dean’s reassurances that he wasn’t a spy, the three kept a close watch on him for the first month as they worked out to California. After they pulled a bank job in the new territory of the Northwest and Cas had come away with just as much loot as the rest, they eased up. Dean bought him a drink at a saloon in Carson City and admired how his blue eyes looked against the desert sky.

The next month, they hit a train in New Mexico and Dean was shot. Nothing life-threatening, mind you, but Cas had proven his worth again as he dug the bullet out of Dean’s leg and stitched him back together.  He'd told Dean stories of his time during the war, what he did working for the North as a surgeon soldier.  His eyes had gotten so sad, so distant, and Dean just couldn't stand it.  So, drunk on whiskey to numb the pain, he had kissed Castiel again, and he’d gotten to watch as a blush darkened his cheeks before Cas had punched him in the jaw.

Next, they moved to Kansas and visited the graves of the Winchesters’ family, paying their respects before they took a bank in Wichita. When Dean couldn’t sleep and sat up through the night, tears in his eyes, Cas sat up silently with him, watching the stars wheel overhead and fade into the sunrise.  Dean remembered what Castiel had shared, and told him of his father.  Cas didn’t say much, but the hand on his shoulder before breakfast got going evoked a new feeling in Dean.

After that, it was a long, long stretch of inactivity. The job in Wichita forced them into hiding while rangers searched for five unknowns on horseback. Dean took them north, to the Dakota territory and his uncle’s ranch. There, in the cold of the winter and the fresh chill of spring, Dean learned what Castiel’s skin tasted like and he learned how his name sounded when it was murmured like a prayer.

They visited Charlie’s folk in Missouri, scoring in St. Louis before they moved south to Louisiana. In the calm of an evening, on a lonely stretch of beach, Dean walked in the surf with Castiel. With the tang of salt in his nose, Dean told Cas he loved him. That night, Dean found religion, worshipping Castiel from head to toe.

A year later, they returned to Texas. When Gabriel showed up unannounced in their camp and Cas had to stop four guns from riddling his brother with holes, Dean felt sick. Cas was leaving. For all that Dean knew he loved Cas and thought Cas loved him, he convinced himself the man would go. He stormed and raged inside himself at the injustice of it all, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret ever, ever taking Castiel away from death. Nor could he ever ask Castiel to stay. He deserved better, Dean had always thought that. He walked in beauty through Dean’s soul, and he could never deny what made him happy.

Every night that Cas stayed, Dean feverishly, madly kept Castiel to himself, filling a hunger in his soul that he was sure would swallow him when Cas left. Cas’ soft, worried eyes only tore at Dean’s heart when he looked at him. When Cas stood before him a week after his brother arrived, Dean fought down tears. When Cas said he wasn’t leaving, why on Earth did Dean think he could leave, Dean let the tears go. He held Cas tight and whispered apologies into his neck, and promises to have more faith. So deliriously happy was he that even Gabriel’s continued presence didn’t phase him. It made Cas happy, so Dean let it go. When he caught Gabriel in Sam’s tent a few months later, he did mutter a few choice words under his breath but didn’t say anything more under Castiel’s stern gaze. Their little family was happy, and who was he to change that?

The next job was the same bank where Dean had found Cas.

 

* * *

 

Now

 

_Castiel stands firmly by Dean’s side, waving goodbye to Benny. Somewhere in his heart, he knew that Benny would leave when Gabriel decided to stay. When it was only Dean and himself, Benny’s wistful looks were small. When Gabriel and Sam sat so close around the fire that their thighs touched, Benny would smile sadly to himself. And, as Cas predicted, Benny leaves within the year. Dean gives Benny a firm handshake, and laughs when his friend pulls him in for a hug._

_“Y’all ever want some good home cookin’, you come’n find me, ya hear?” Benny says as he hops upon his horse._

_Dean smiles, a little tearfully, and tucks the address Benny had written for him into his pocket. Castiel puts a hand on Dean’s elbow and says goodbye._

 

_Charlie’s mother is ill. Castiel isn’t sure how she got the news, but Charlie’s always had ways to keep in touch with her family. She hugs Sam and Dean goodbye, leaving the three one of her favorite jewels. Dean tucks another address and the jewel into his pocket and Castiel chases the sadness from his bones._

 

_The remaining four continue in their tradition until Sam is hurt. Castiel is holding onto Dean’s shoulders while Gabriel gallops ahead, Sam slumping in the saddle. He’s hurt bad, too bad for Cas to fix it. Two of their horses are dead, one of them Baby, shot by Rangers who’d tracked them to their hideout. The horses are dead, but the Rangers never see their faces. The four of them hide as long as they can, then ride into the nearest town and the doctor sees to Sam. Gabriel is crying and Castiel has never seen Dean so angry. He shrugs off Castiel’s hand, and Cas’ heart breaks for him. When the doctor comes out and says Sam will be fine, Dean almost collapses and Gabriel rushes into the room. After that, Dean is done. He tells Castiel as much, his face hard and lined._

_A year later, Castiel and Dean are retired to his late uncle’s ranch in the Dakota territory, Dean’s gold-filigreed Colts hanging above the fireplace. Sam and Gabriel live just a ride away, since Dean couldn’t bear to be parted from his brother forever. And Castiel is happy. In fact, he’s never been happier. He and Dean share cups of coffee in the chilly mornings before they work the ranch, their ill-gotten gains sitting safe beneath the house. Castiel still has nightmares sometimes, about his time in the war, and Dean is always there to soothe them away. But sometimes the nights are peaceful, and Castiel lays in bed reading while Dean sleeps by his side. Maybe it’s not the future Castiel had imagined, but it was worth every step. And when Dean’s green eyes happily shine in the bright autumn light, Cas is reminded of the late nights in Texas, when the stars had nothing on his eyes._


End file.
